| Current mood: |  infuriated |
| Current music: | Duck and Cover // The Agency |
I didn't believe that in me, there could lie rage. Not anger, but rage. Pure, raw rage. But there does. Since he told me, it's seeped into ever last piece of fiber, wrapped it's cold, ugly hand around my heart. And every time I see him, that hand squeezes, breaking me just a little more.
I don't like it, I don't like way it courses through my viens, the way it clouds my mind. I don't like the thoughts it brings. I don't like the way it burns in my stomach; I don't like the taste it leaves at the back of my throat. I don't like the disturbing images it stirs; I don't like the desires it brings. The ones to do the same back. To make him feel the very same way.
I want to tear his pride away piece by piece. I want to leave him raw and vulnerable. I want to make him fall to his knees and cry out every night in pain at the injustice. I want to watch that smug little smirk be ripped off his face. I want to be the one who makes it fall away. I want to watch him cry. I want him to make him feel worthless. I want to make him feel this way.
I never will. But God I want to. I want to so badly. I want him to know. I want him to know what it's like to feel broken.
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